


I'll take what I can get.

by orphan_account



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Overdosing, drug overdose, idk if this makes any sense at all, really really badly written smut sorry folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-03 03:49:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19455736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Nikki, I wanna try some. I want a hit.”At that, Nikki’s eyebrows shot up. “No shit?”“Yeah, dude. No shit,” the drummer echoed. “Shoot me up.”





	1. i'll take what i can get.

**Author's Note:**

> hey wassup. i really don't know if this makes any sense at ALL, i reread it just about a million times but i still don't know. please tell me it does???? but i've had this idea in my head since literally forever LMAO. enjoy?? 
> 
> (also yeah i wrote the title in capital letters okay i'm ummm trying it out. usually i put all my titles in lowercase)

“Nikki, come _on_ ,” Tommy groaned, carefully stepping over all the used needles, bent spoons, and empty baggies of smack that littered the floor. “This is fucking ridiculous; you’ve been shut up in here all fuckin’ day. When’s the last time you even fucking picked up your bass, dude? Or tried to finish writing a song? You know Vince is gonna ask about that.”

The light from the hallway flooded Nikki’s dark bedroom, and Tommy could just _barely_ make out the bassist’s silhouette. He was curled up in the corner, as usual, with a needle still in his arm and a glazed look painted on his face. As usual. Fucking figured. Tommy sighed, feeling his eyes well with tears.

He could hear Nikki let out a long sigh. His words were slow as he said, “Don’t you fucking _dare_ guilt trip me, T-Bone. You know I hate that shit. And close the fuckin’ door, it’s too bright.”

Tommy did. Because he knew better than to argue with Nikki when he was as high and as _out of it_ as he currently was—The last time he did, and it had been over something equally stupid, Nikki had flipped out and fucking pulled a gun on him, screaming profanities at him, shoving him, threatening to… _Fuck_. Tommy pushed those thoughts out of his mind, wincing and biting down on his lip as hard as he could. He didn’t wanna think about that. Hell, he’d lost enough sleep over it already.

Then he walked over to where Nikki was sitting, frantically wiping his eyes so that Nikki wouldn’t see. He sat on his knees, his kneecaps digging into the hardwood floors, and looked Nikki up and down. And… he could feel his fucking heart drop into his stomach when he did. It was like he was looking at a completely different fucking person, almost.

“Nikki… baby,” he started, his voice quiet as he used his fingers to lift the bassist’s chin up. It was dark, but what little moonlight spilled in through the open window allowed him to see just how pinned Nikki’s pupils were, along with those damn dark circles under his eyes that seemed to be etched permanently into his skin, and his jutting cheekbones. Tommy leaned in, wanting nothing more than to feel Nikki’s lips on his own—he couldn’t remember the last time they’d even done so much as fucking _kissed_ —but, of course, Nikki pulled away, turned his head to the side with yet another groan.

“Not right now,” he slurred, weakly waving a hand in the air.

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as if he’d just gotten punched in the stomach… No, wait. A punch to the stomach would hurt less, way less. A tear rolled down his cheek, dripping off his nose and splattering against the back of his hand. He opened his mouth but then shut it just as quick: he didn’t even know what the fuck he wanted to say anymore, since almost everything was guaranteed to turn into a big fucking argument. If anyone ever thought Nikki’s temper was bad before, it was nothing compared to how it was on smack.

It was quiet, too quiet, except for the sound of Tommy’s sniffling which he didn’t think he could possibly hide anymore. Nikki didn’t seem to notice—or, if he _did_ notice, he didn’t seem to care. And Tommy didn’t know which one was worse, if he was being honest. He reached out, intertwining his fingers with Nikki’s calloused ones and gently running his thumb along Nikki’s. Nikki’s hand was limp in his own, head leaning against the wall behind him. His eyes were closed, his pale lips slightly parted.

Tommy sat there in silence for what felt like forever, growing angrier and angrier as the minutes passed by. What the fuck was so great about heroin, anyways? What the _fuck_ was it that made Nikki always choose smack over him? Tommy didn’t get it… but he wanted to find out. He wanted to find out if it was all Nikki cracked it up to be.

So, without giving it too much thought, he shook Nikki’s shoulder until the bassist reluctantly opened his eyes.

“What?” he growled, obviously annoyed. Tommy felt a little bad about it.

“Nikki, I wanna try some. I want a hit.”

At that, Nikki’s eyebrows shot up. “No shit?”

“Yeah, dude. No shit,” the drummer echoed. “Shoot me up.”

“Hell yeah,” his lips curled into a smile as he slowly nodded his head. Then he stood up without another word, steadying himself against the wall to help catch his balance. Tommy only stared at him, at the way his jeans hung low on his hips and bunched at the knees. His hipbones peeked out ever so slightly, Tommy noticed, and when he bent down to grab an unopened balloon of smack that sat on the dresser, Tommy could see the entire outline of his spine underneath the thin t-shirt he was wearing, could count his ribs if he wanted to.

(But he didn’t want to.)

Nikki sat back down—more like collapsed, actually—then laid everything out on the floor between them: the lighter, the smack, the blackened spoon, the empty syringe, the lemons. Tommy watched, silent, as Nikki poured the contents of the baggie out onto the spoon, running the lighter underneath it. He’d always wanted to ask Nikki about the lemons, like, what the point of them even was, but kept his mouth shut. Nikki’s green eyes were lit up, utterly transfixed as the drug slowly melted down, and Tommy chewed on his lip… Nikki used to look at him like that.

He filled up the syringe until there was nothing left behind in the spoon, not even a single drop, then grabbed a belt from the cluttered floor.

Tommy clenched his jaw till it started to ache as Nikki tied off his arm, tight enough for all his veins to immediately swell.

“It helps if you, um,” Nikki cleared his throat, roughly running a finger along a vein near the crook of Tommy’s elbow, right where his rose tattoo was, “Don’t look at the needle.”

“Oka—ah, okay, okay,” Tommy squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the needle enter his vein. He pushed a forceful breath out of his nose and grimaced at the pressure, the sharp pinch, the bruising feeling, the burn of the drug slowly creeping through him. His eyes watered. “Nikki, fuck… fuck, ow. _Shit_. Give me a little warning next time, dude.”

“Almost done, baby,” Nikki mumbled. “Two more seconds. Fucking hell, stay _still_.”

Shit, had he been moving too much? Tommy didn’t even realize.

Nikki pulled the needle from his vein and he whimpered—it hurt just as bad coming out as it did going in. He immediately rubbed his sore elbow, used his index finger to stop the blood from beading up, then gave in and let his eyelids fall over his dark eyes.

Everything slowed down, it felt like. And then, holy shit. He was hit with what felt like the biggest rush on the goddamn planet—And all he could do was sit there, completely frozen.

When he opened his eyes next, he was met with Nikki staring at him, a devilish grin on his lips. Tommy smiled, too; he hadn’t seen Nikki _actually_ smile like that in... shit. It’s been so long that he couldn’t even remember, but god did he miss it. He missed it a hell of a lot. It took him right back to their early days, back when Mötley had just started to really make it big. The countless nights spent in hotels, or at the Whiskey, or amid the bright lights and chaos of the Sunset Strip. Him and Nikki, the infamous “Terror Twins,”—and still only kids, too—always together, heads filled with tons of stupid, crazy ideas. He really fucking missed that smile.

“How’s that feel, baby?”

Tommy stared at the now-bloody syringe in Nikki’s hands. His head spun. “Good… I think.”

“Fuckin’ A,” the bassist laughed, breathy.

“Yeah,” Tommy decided, nodding his head, leaning against the wall in a slump. “Good.”

Except his stomach lurched when he said that.

“Wait till you try it with an 8-ball,” Nikki said, ghosting his fingertips up and down Tommy’s arm, causing goosebumps to erupt underneath his touch. “It’s even fuckin’ better.”

And then— _fuck, dude._ Tommy sprang up from where he was sitting, rushing to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him with a hand pressed tightly over his mouth. Didn’t do much to stop the puke, though.

He leaned over the toilet, his chestnut curls falling in his face and obscuring his vision, and coughed as his head spun. He thought he might’ve heard Nikki knocking on the door but hell, he could’ve been imagining it for all he knew.

When he walked out, he really felt it. He was high as fuck; the _crashing into walls, can barely stand up_ kind of high. And fuck trying to walk in a straight line, that was out of the question. It was a goddamn miracle he made it back to Nikki’s bedroom in one piece.

Nikki looked up at him, eyebrows drawn together. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m really high, Nik,” the drummer slurred. His words dragged as he added, “I feel fucking…”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence, for fuck’s sake.

“C’mere,” Nikki interrupted, motioning to his lap. Tommy felt his heart jump a little bit as he sat there in Nikki’s arms, resting his head on the bassist’s chest. Nikki gently brushed the hair away from his eyes, then from his forehead, whispering, “You look so pretty right now. So fucking pretty.” 

Tommy mumbled something back—he didn’t really know what. Could’ve been gibberish, and he wouldn’t be surprised at all if it actually was. But still, he was smiling, brushing his lips against Nikki’s neck and he even heard Nikki say _I love you._ His head was spinning even before that but goddamn did those three words make it spin even more. He felt really fuckin’ good now—and it might’ve had something to do with the way Nikki was whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

“Love you too, Nik,” Tommy managed to tell him, right before passing out.

/ / /

When Tommy woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was ask Nikki to shoot him up again. And Nikki, of course, happily obliged, hitting the same spot as last night: the rose tattoo in the bend of his arm.

He liked heroin, he decided. He liked getting high with Nikki, and he _really_ liked laying there in the bassist’s arms until he finally passed out, feeling Nikki’s skin on his own. Shit, if this is what the fuck it took to get Nikki to finally spend some fucking time with him, show him some fucking affection… He’ll take it.

He’ll take what he can get.

It was better than nothing, better than the hell he had grown accustomed to, he figured.

Nikki sat on the edge of the couch, hitting a vein between his toes because the ones in his arms were too fucked now – collapsed and bruised up, stained a purple-yellow-brown color. Once he was done, he tossed the needle on the couch, turning to Tommy. “Here, baby. Freebase. So you don’t nod off during rehearsal later. It helps with that kinda shit, trust me.”

He handed Tommy a glass pipe; the drummer just stared at it like an idiot for a minute, not saying anything. He eventually took a hit, and yeah, Nikki was right. It did help. It helped a lot.

Enough so that he managed to not fuck up too bad in the studio today. Nikki, on the other hand, was a total fucking disaster: Mick suggested a key change to one of the guitar lines and Nikki just about lost it, screaming _fuck you, that’s lame,_ and when Vince didn’t like a lyric and said that Nikki should rework it a little… _Shit_. All hell broke loose.

“I’m sick and fuckin’ tired of your bitchy ass attitude, Neil,” Nikki screamed, grabbing an empty beer bottle and throwing it at the singer, who managed to duck just in time. It shattered against the wall, decorating the floor, and fuck, Tommy really needed to do something. “If you don’t like my fucking lyrics, maybe try writing some your _fuckin’_ self!”

“Nikki… Nikki, hey,” Tommy dropped his drumsticks, scrambling over to where the bassist stood. “Let’s go outside for a minute, dude.”

Nikki’s entire body was shaking, Tommy noticed, as they stepped into the empty hallway. The bassist started pacing, up and down then in circles, tugging his hands through his jet-black locks. “I need to shoot up, I need to fucking shoot up—”

“Okay, fuck… um,” Tommy looked around, frantic. “Bathrooms?”

Nikki nodded.

Come to think of it, he wouldn’t exactly be opposed to a little hit right about now, too…

He laced his fingers between Nikki’s as they walked to the closest bathroom they could find. And almost immediately, Nikki was pulling a balloon of Persian from his pocket, along with a plastic bottle cap and a rig.

“Fuckin’ piece of _shit_ ,” Nikki cursed, angry because the lighter had stalled. His hands visibly shook. “I don’t fucking have time for this— _finally_.”

The drug melted down, liquefied. Nikki stood in front of the mirror, underneath the fluorescent lighting, and hit a vein in his neck before asking, “You want some too, babe?”

Tommy found himself nodding his head yes. _Yes, I want some_. _Yes, shoot me up._ _Yes, love me._ _Yes, yes, yes._

“Needle’s going in,” Nikki mumbled, and shit, that was quick. Tommy bit his lip until it was over, feeling that little rush beginning to hit as soon as Nikki tore the needle from his arm.

He all but collapsed into Nikki’s arms, grabbing fistfuls of the bassist’s shirt and holding him tight. His fingers danced in Nikki’s hair, toying with his dark locks. “Fuck…”

Nikki’s lips were close to his ear and his hands cupped the small of his back as he whispered, “Good, baby?”

“Yeah,” Tommy mumbled into Nikki’s neck.

The bassist pressed a soft kiss to Tommy’s cheek and god, that almost gave him a bigger rush than the fucking drugs did. His eyes fluttered shut as a soft, barely audible moan escaped his lips, hands still buried in Nikki’s tangled hair.

“Ready to go back in there?” Nikki chuckled.

“No,” Tommy shook his head, chestnut curls swaying along with the movement. He met his dark eyes with Nikki’s green ones, both their pupils painfully pinned. “Can you just… keep doing this? Please? Just for a little bit longer.”

Nikki laughed, lazily nipping at the drummer’s earlobe and causing him to jump a little. “Sure.”

He’ll take what he can get.

/ / /

“Shoot me up?” Tommy asked quietly, outstretching his arm.

They sat on Nikki’s couch, TV off, the fiery sunset seeping through the windows the only light source in the room. It bounced off the walls, bathing them both in a muted orange glow. Nikki had an arm lazily draped across the drummer’s stomach, and Tommy’s head was buried in Nikki’s chest. 

“Okay, baby,” Nikki words slurred together as he spoke, already high as a kite. “Stay here, I'm gonna get everything.”

Tommy nodded, leaning back into the couch cushions and closing his eyes. He frowned, letting out a quiet sigh. He didn’t actually like heroin, he realized that yesterday. Heroin was the fucking devil, but if it got Nikki to spend time with him, tell him that he loved him, then… How bad could it really be?

His eyes snapped right back open when Nikki straddled his lap, a syringe in his hands and that same devilish grin on his lips. The bassist tied off Tommy’s arm, then mumbled, “You’re gonna fuckin’ love this, T-Bone.”

The drummer gazed up at him and god, he looked like a fucking angel right now with his teased up hair and those damn lips that were curled into the most breathtaking smirk. He pulled his eyebrows together. “Wha—?”

Nikki tapped his knuckle over a vein in his elbow once, then again. “Remember how I said this is even fuckin’ better with coke?”

“Oh, shit,” Tommy said, the whites around his eyes growing.

He took a deep breath, teeth sunken into his lower lip as he waited for the sharp pinch of the needle. And yeah, there it was. _Fuck_. A whimper escaped from his lips at the pressure. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to that.

As soon as Nikki was done, Tommy felt it. He felt it _immediately_ ; the high hit him like a ton of fucking bricks. His heart was beating just as fast as his thoughts were racing, and his hands gripped Nikki’s hips a little too tight as his vision started to blur slightly.

Wait. That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it? _Shit shit shit._

“Nikki…” the drummer managed to choke out, breathless. “Nik, I don’t feel so good.”

“Give it a minute, babe,” Nikki laughed, his words dragging along.

Tommy shut his eyes. Opened them. Blinked a few times. Everything was still blurry. His heartbeat was loud in his ears and he couldn’t stop himself from shaking no matter how hard he tried. Even his fucking _voice_ was shaky as he said, “N-no, I…”

He let his sentence trail off. Nikki was definitely staring at him now, and he could just _feel_ all the color starting to slowly drain from his face.

“T-Bone?” Nikki shook his shoulder.

When Tommy didn’t answer, Nikki did it again. And again. And maybe again, but everything started fading in and out and quite honestly, Tommy didn’t know what the fuck was happening.

“Tommy, shit! Baby, please, no—fuck!” was the last thing he heard before his vision faded completely and everything went black.


	2. never gonna leave you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i stayed up until 12:30 a.m. finishing this shit. i'm fucking tired LMAO. if there's any mistakes, that's why. i tried to make this as long as i possibly fucking could but i'm not one of those people who can write, like, 7 or 8k word chapters. wish i was, but unfortunately... i ain't. TELL ME YOUR FUCKING SECRETS. how do y'all write such long ass chapters? FUCK. :/

The sun was just beginning to set over the Valley, quickly disappearing behind the clouds and the mountains and leaving behind a vivid trail of fiery reds and oranges in its wake. The wind violently whistled through the trees outside. It had to be half-past six already, at least.

And Nikki felt absolutely stone cold sober despite the fact that he had just shot up not even fifteen minutes ago.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

Nikki could barely get any words out. His throat was tight, almost like it was closing up. Almost like he was choking. Like he couldn’t fucking breathe, and he couldn’t, really, because how the _fuck_ could he when Tommy was _right there_ , his lips slowly turning blue and his eyes rolled back, dark red blood pooled at his inner elbow?

Nikki was pacing around his living room now, frantically screaming into the phone at the poor lady. He felt bad; it wasn’t her fault. She was just doing her job, for fuck’s sake. And… he shouldn’t be yelling, anyways. He took a breath, running a hand through his dark hair, fingers catching on his tangled, teased strands, and tried his damn hardest to calm himself down. He lowered his voice and it took nearly everything in him to not cry as he glanced back at Tommy, begging, “Please get here, please, please—Tommy, fuck! Wake up! Please, baby. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“The paramedics are on their way, sir,” the operator said, her voice calm and collected, the exact opposite of Nikki’s. “Can you stay on the line with me until they arrive, please?”

“Yeah… uh, yes. I can,” Nikki managed to choke out, his voice impossibly shaky. 

And the room was completely, overwhelmingly, _achingly_ silent after that. Nikki didn’t think he could fucking take it.

_Fuck fuck fuck_ , he wanted to scream as he fell to floor in a heap, holding Tommy’s limp, cold hand in his own. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks and his jaw had started to hurt because he’d been clenching it so damn hard without even realizing it. His stomach was lurching and lurching and _lurching_ like no tomorrow and—

And suddenly he could hear the sirens outside, way too loud and way too obnoxious, as well as the high-pitched squeal of the tires on the asphalt. Fucking _finally_ , too, it was about goddamn time they got here. The glow from the flashing lights spilled in through the large window in his living room, bouncing off the walls and flooding the place with light. _Red, white, red, white._

Nikki ran to the door as fast as he could, heart pounding in his chest erratically. His feet felt heavy, like lead almost. His lungs fucking burned. His throat was dry and his eyes were red and bloodshot from all the crying as he flung it open and _oh_ _god_ , he wanted to fucking punch something when he saw that fucking stretcher there in the doorway.

_Red, white, red white._ Fuck _._ This was hell. This was Nikki’s worst nightmare.

This was absolute fucking hell.

They were asking him too many questions, now, and Nikki didn’t think he had it in him to form a complete sentence. All he could do was stand there, paralyzed because no, this _couldn’t be fucking happening_. It had to be a bad dream. He couldn’t lose his Tommy. He fucking couldn’t. He’d hate himself forever if he did.

And, fucking _shit_. It would be his fault, too.

Because _he_ was the one who had agreed to shoot Tommy up. He was the one who decided to cut his dope with a line of fucking coke, he was the one who told Tommy that he was gonna ‘love it’. He was the one who fucking caused all this.

He knew he absolutely wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he lost his Tommy—to fucking _smack_ , too. Something that was so, so fucking evil. God, this wasn’t fucking fair; Nikki would give _anything_ to switch places with Tommy right now, he thought. Tommy didn’t deserve this. What the fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

“Someone get me the naloxone, he’s not breathing!”

No. _No no no no_ , oh god. Nikki could feel his heart _stop_ when he heard that, and that’s when his legs gave out, too. He fell to the ground, screaming, sobbing, shaking, pulling at his hair, digging his nails into his wrist as hard as he could – hard enough to leave behind a bit of blood. His whole entire fucking world was crashing down and he couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening.

He could feel one of the paramedics place a hand on his back. It didn’t do much to help.

“We have to take him to the hospital now. There’s room in the back of the ambulance for you, if you’d—”

“Okay, okay, let’s fucking go already,” Nikki cut in. He didn’t wanna waste any more time sitting around. “Please.”

And everything was a blur, suddenly. Somehow, Nikki managed to make it into the back of the ambulance, managed to pull himself up off the floor. He was staring at Tommy, now; at Tommy sprawled out on that damn stretcher as the paramedics tore his shirt off and tossed it to the ground.

Nikki reached for it, clutching onto it tight and holding it to his chest, sobbing into the soft fabric. He couldn’t bear to watch them shove needle after fucking needle into Tommy’s chest in hopes that he’d wake up.

“He’s not—!”

“Give me the—!”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Nikki choked out weakly, turning to face one of the paramedics. “I’m gonna fucking puke, I’m gonna—”

Nikki stared up at the roof of the ambulance, at those too-bright white lights, and pinched the bridge of his nose so that he wouldn’t.

“Get me the adrenaline!” one of the paramedics barked out.

Nikki held his breath, peeking out from behind shaky fingers and _please, please, please. Please, Tommy. Please be okay, please. God damn it._ Nikki almost considered fucking _praying_ – that’s how desperate he was, that’s how much he fucking needed Tommy to—

“Holy shit, dude,” Tommy gasped, sitting up and looking around. “Where the hell am I…? Nikki?”

Nikki’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to fucking cry when he looked into those big, gorgeous brown eyes of Tommy’s.

Was this real?

Was he dreaming?

He sure as shit hoped he wasn’t.

Nikki stood up, rushing over to where Tommy sat with the drummer’s shirt still balled up tight in his hand. He didn’t say anything—he couldn’t. Not right now, at least, so he settled for just pulling Tommy into a tight hug and not letting go.

“Nikki…”

“I’m sorry,” Nikki sobbed, face hidden in Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so—I love you so much, you fucking scared the shit out of me. I thought I was gonna fucking lose you…”

Tommy carded a hand through Nikki’s hair, whispering, “I’m never gonna leave you, Nik. Never. Remember? I promised you. And I don’t break my promises, Sixx.”

Nikki squeezed his eyes shut before any more tears could fall. He remembered the night Tommy promised him that like it was yesterday, almost…

_Nikki woke up with his face pressed against the mattress of his rather uncomfortable hotel bed. His head was pounding, he was naked from the waist down, and there was a… burrito lying next to him? What the fuck? He tossed it on the floor, eyebrows pulled together._

_The pounding in his head was getting louder—way,_ way _louder, Nikki noticed, and… Shit, wait. That definitely wasn’t in his head. Someone was knocking on the door, he realized._

_“Fuck off!” Nikki snapped, annoyed._

_“Fuck you, Sixx! Open the door!”_

_It was Doc._

_Nikki groaned, rolling over and then slowly, reluctantly dragging himself out of bed. All he wanted to do was sleep his hangover off, but of fucking course, Doc wouldn’t even let him do that._

_No rest for the wicked, right?_

_Nikki chuckled to himself right before pulling the door open._

_Doc pulled a face. “Clean yourself up. You’ve got a visitor.”_

_The bassist only shrugged, slamming the door shut again without another word. Fuck Doc, he could be such a pain in the ass sometimes…_

_Still, Nikki made an effort. Well, he half-assed it, but it was better than nothing, he figured. Once he had on (relatively) clean clothes, he paused to pull a comb through his hair—which, at this point, looked more like a rat’s nest. Fuck._

_On his way out, he grabbed a bottle of Jack. Who knew, he might end up needing it. It couldn’t hurt, after all._

_He made his way down to the lobby, which was all decked out for Christmas, and he instantly bit down on his lip. Christmas wasn’t exactly his favorite time of the year. The holidays kinda sucked when you had shitty parents who didn’t—_

_When he saw his mother standing there in the middle of the room, he stopped dead in his tracks. He tightened his grip on the Jack, taking a half-step backwards. Fuck, he didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or scream… Or both._

_“Your mother called and asked to come to a show,” Doc started, “So I thought, with it being the holidays and all…”_

_Deana held out her arms, a big smile plastered on her face. “Merry Christmas, Frank.”_

_Nikki felt his jaw involuntarily twitch. He took another step backwards. “T-that’s not my name.”_

_“My baby,” Deana sighed, wrapping her arms around Nikki’s shoulders. Nikki only stood there, letting his eyes close as he frowned. God, he wanted to fucking cry._

_And then she was saying something about Looks That Kill and calling him ‘Frankie’ again and… Nikki couldn’t deal with this right now. He wanted to go shoot up, he fucking_ needed _to go shoot up._

_“That’s not my fucking name!” He screamed, loud enough to make Deana flinch, and then threw the bottle of Jack to the floor. It shattered into a million pieces with a loud, echo-y bang, and Nikki stormed out of the lobby without even looking back at Deana._

Fuck _Doc. Who the fuck did he think he was? He was fucking fired, that son of a bitch. He ignored Doc’s pleading for him to stay as he stepped into the elevator, wiping a few tears from his eyes as he did._

_He walked past his own room completely—not even realizing he had until he found himself knocking on Tommy’s door instead._

_“Sixx? There you are, fucker! What’s up?” Tommy flung the door open, hand hanging in the air for a high-five. He took one look at Nikki and then dropped his hand and lowered his voice considerably as he asked, “Shit, dude, what’s wrong?”_

_“I—Doc—m-my mom…” Nikki choked out between sobs._

_Tommy pulled him into a tight hug, rubbing his back. Nikki didn’t think he could fight the tears anymore, so fuck it. They stood there in the hallway like that for what felt like forever as Nikki cried his eyes out, neither of them saying a word._

_Until Tommy stepped back suddenly, dropping his arms. “Nikki, do you—”_

_“Tommy, please, wait,” Nikki sniffled, wiping his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “Please don’t leave me, please, I—”_

_He didn’t even know what the fuck he wanted to say anymore; all he knew is that he wanted Tommy’s arms around him again._

_Tommy met his dark eyes with Nikki’s teary green ones. “Hey, hey. Nik, I’m not leaving you. I was gonna ask if you wanted to come inside? So we’re not just standing out here? I’m never gonna leave you.”_

_“Promise?” Nikki asked, his voice small._

_“I promise, Nikki,” Tommy said, cupping Nikki’s cheek. “I promise you I’m never gonna leave you, okay?”_

_And then he leaned in, kissing him, and Nikki swore he felt all his pain instantly melt away._

“Nik...? Nikki, hey. Baby,” Tommy laughed, waving a hand in front of Nikki’s face. “Earth to Sixx! God damn, dude.”

Tommy was smiling, his brown eyes all lit up and starry, and—fuck. It damn near took Nikki’s breath away; he thought he’d never get to see that smile or get to look into those eyes ever again. _Fuck_.

“I, uh,” Nikki said softly, clearing his throat and then lacing his fingers between Tommy’s. “Sorry, babe. I was just... thinking.”

“Yeah?” the drummer whispered, pressing his forehead to Nikki’s. Nikki let his eyes close, savoring every minute of this. “About what?”

He gave Tommy’s hand a small squeeze as he took a deep breath. “I’m gonna check myself into rehab tomorrow. First fuckin’ thing in the morning.”

Rehab scared the shit out of him—hell, even just _thinking_ about it made his blood run cold—but he knew he needed to go. For Tommy. It was the least he could fucking do. He owed the drummer that much.

Tommy threw his arms around Nikki’s waist, pulling him even closer. “That’s amazing, Nik.”

He placed a soft kiss to Tommy’s cheek. “I’m done with this shit for good this time. I promise.”

And he had every intention of keeping that promise, too. This was definitely one hell of a wake-up call.

/ / /

Nikki didn’t think he could get out of here fast enough. He’d suffered through his thirty days and he was more than ready to get the hell out so he could see Tommy. It was fucking _agonizing_ spending such a long time without the drummer there by his side, despite the fact that Nikki had called him every day—sometimes even twice a day. How the hell Tommy didn’t get sick of him, well… Nikki’d never really know the answer to that.

When he finally made it back home and Tommy opened the door for him, his heart skipped a fucking beat. All he could do was stand there like a dumbass and stare at him.

Tommy’s lips were pulled into the biggest grin imaginable as he said, looking Nikki up and down, “Nikki, holy shit. Baby, you look—”

Nikki didn’t even let him finish that. If he went one more second without kissing Tommy, without touching him, he was gonna fucking _explode_ , he thought. And so he captured Tommy’s lips with a fierce kiss, snaking an arm around his waist and burying a hand in those soft curls. _God_ , it felt good. Better than Nikki remembered. He’d dreamed of finally being able to do this again every night, just about.

He had Tommy pressed up against the door, now, as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue in Tommy’s mouth.

As they broke apart, Tommy smirked at him. “I was gonna say that you looked fucking fantastic before you… um, interrupted me. Just so you know.”

“Baby, we can talk later,” Nikki mumbled, a little out of breath, “Right now, I just wanna…”

He let his sentence trail off, pressing his lips to Tommy’s neck instead. Then he grabbed a fistful of Tommy’s shirt and pulled him inside, making sure to shut the door behind them.

A soft blush crept its way onto Tommy’s face as Nikki glided his fingers underneath his shirt, exploring every inch of his smooth skin. He heard Tommy let out a soft moan, his head tipped back and his eyes shut.

“Nikki…” Tommy whispered.

Nikki shut him up by kissing him again, stumbling over to the couch that sat in the center of his living room and pulling Tommy along with him. He played with the hem of Tommy’s t-shirt before yanking it over his head and tossing it somewhere on the floor behind them.

Nikki’s eyes raked over Tommy’s lanky body, memorizing every detail. “God, Tom. You look fucking amazing.”

Even more amazing than Nikki had remembered. Fuck, it’d been way too long since they’d done this. Back when Nikki was shooting up every day, Tommy had become an afterthought to him—and he hated himself for that. He wanted nothing more than to show Tommy how much he fucking loved him, to make up for the times he’d treated the drummer like absolute shit thanks to smack.

His fingertips ghosted along Tommy’s ribs, his back, his hips. As he kissed Tommy once more, he messed with the button on his jeans, struggling a bit.

Their lips parted with a wet click. The profile of Tommy’s face was highlighted by the sunlight streaming in from the window, now, and his chestnut curls looked almost golden. _Goddamn_. Nikki sighed. How the fuck did he get so lucky?

He unzipped Tommy’s jeans, tugging them down, then gripped his hips and gently pushed him onto his back, straddling him with a devilish grin.

“Nikki, please…” the drummer begged.

Nikki pushed Tommy’s underwear out of the way, then swirled his tongue around the head of his hard cock. The moans that fell from Tommy’s lips were like music to Nikki’s ears, and so he took him even deeper. His eyes watered slightly as Tommy’s tip hit the back of his throat; Tommy’s hips hitched forward.

He could feel Tommy’s fingernails trailing down his back as he let out a moan, his lips still wrapped around the drummer’s length.

Tommy tugged on his hair, and Nikki sat up with a smirk. “Yes, baby?”

And god, Tommy looked so gorgeous sprawled out and whimpering underneath him like this, Nikki couldn’t help but think. So fucking pretty. Nikki exhaled, biting his lip.

Tommy’s eyelids fell over his eyes. “Can you—please, Nikki. Fuck me already. I need you so fucking bad.”

The bassist leaned down to quickly kiss Tommy again, and then it dawned on him: he didn’t have any fucking lube. Shit!

“Stay here, babe,” Nikki whispered, lips pressed up against Tommy’s ear. “I hate to ruin the moment like this, I really fuckin’ do, but I’ll be right back.”

“What—?” Tommy pouted.

“Touch yourself for me,” the bassist said, smirking while he lightly ran his fingers down Tommy’s chest. “Can you do that? Wrap your hands around that pretty cock of yours for me until I get back? Pretend it’s me?”

A soft sigh left Tommy’s mouth as he lazily caressed himself, teeth sunken into his lower lip.

Nikki tried to be as quick as he could, frantically searching searching _searching_ his bedroom for that bottle he _knew_ had to fuckin’ be in here somewhere. He pulled open drawer after drawer, his leather pants painfully tight. Fuck, where the hell did he put it?

He didn’t wanna keep Tommy waiting too much longer, and besides, he didn’t think he could take another minute of this, either.

When he finally found it, he just about sprinted back to the living room.

Tommy’s eyes were still squeezed shut as he jerked himself off, and _god_. Nikki felt his cock swell, heat pooling in his lower stomach as his eyes lingered on the drummer.

“F-fuck, Nikki…” Tommy moaned.

Nikki straddled him again, using his knee to spread Tommy’s legs. He quickly slicked up a finger, wasting no time, then gently ran it over Tommy’s opening. He could hear Tommy’s breath slightly catch right before he pushed it in.

“Oh, fuck—!” the drummer cried.

Once Nikki’s entire finger was inside of Tommy, he twisted it and hooked it upwards, focusing it on that specific spot and earning a gasp and a string of swears from him.

He continued pulling his finger out and then subsequently pushing it right back in, and studied Tommy’s expressions as he did so. He pushed in a second finger, causing Tommy to groan and arch his back, his hands now draped over his face.

After he added a third finger, Tommy was left flushed and panting underneath him as he muffled a moan with the back of his hand. Nikki grabbed Tommy’s wrists, pinning them above his head as he worked his fingers even deeper inside him.

“Shit,” Tommy breathed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, _Nikki_ —”

Nikki pulled his fingers out of Tommy suddenly, releasing his wrists and grabbing the lube once again. As he did so, Tommy quickly undid Nikki’s jeans, tugging them, along with his underwear, down around his thighs. Nikki paused, squeezing the lube into his palm and then stroking himself until he was slick.

His fingers dented into Tommy’s soft thighs as he thrust inside him, and Tommy let out a groan through clenched teeth. His hands flew to Nikki’s hips, clutching them tight.

Nikki shifted, his thrusts slow. Tommy shivered, then let out a sigh as he wrapped his arms behind Nikki’s head, holding him impossibly close.

“I love you, Nikki,” he whispered, his forehead pressed _this close_ to Nikki’s and his dark eyes full of pure adoration. “I love you— _ah_ —so fucking much.”

Nikki felt choked up all of a sudden. His heart swelled as he whispered back, “I love you more, baby. Love you more. You’re— _fuck_. You’re the reason I’m still alive.”

Tommy pulled him in for a kiss. “Baby, I’m close.”

“Fuck,” Nikki moaned, reaching down and taking Tommy’s length in his hand. All it took was a few slow strokes to tip him over the edge, his back arching as he released onto Nikki’s stomach. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby.”

Nikki bit down on his lip as he came inside Tommy, breath hitching. As he pulled out, he stopped to place a sloppy kiss on the drummer’s cheek before collapsing on the couch next to him.

Tommy’s messy dark hair fanned out on the couch beneath him, his eyes were half-lidded and his cheeks were flushed. The sound of their ragged breathing was loud, filling the room, and the air felt sticky. Nikki laid his head on Tommy’s chest, then smiled to himself when he felt Tommy’s hands in his hair.

It was quiet until Nikki whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Tommy laughed. “That was fucking amazing, babe.”

Nikki grinned, shoving him. “No, I mean… Everything. The way I treated you, the—”

He couldn’t bring himself to actually say the word _overdose_.

“It’s okay,” Tommy cut in, and thank god because Nikki was crying, now. And he didn’t think he could stop even if he tried.

Nikki shook his head. “N-no, I… You almost…T-Bone, you almost fucking—”

_Died_. He didn’t wanna say that, either.

Tommy hugged him tight. Nikki let his eyes close. “I told you I’m never gonna leave you, Nik. And that’s a fucking promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really not trying to sound like a little bitch in the end notes but i fucking hate everything about this. & i'm not trying to be one of those annoying ass bitches who says shit like that just to get compliments, either. i genuinely think this fucking sucks just like i do with everything i write. but whatever, it's finally fucking done so that's good, i guess? i'm going to sleep.


End file.
